When the Snow Melts
by Opal Rain Dragon
Summary: Draco, the Ice Prince of Slytherin, is having one of the worst years that he can ever remember. When things really start to get bad Harry may be the only one that can help him.
1. When the Snow Melts

Titles: When the Snow Melts

Disclaimer: I have very few possessions and unfortunately the people in this story are not one of them.

Warnings: This is rated R for a good reason. That means if you're a homophobe or have a weak stomach, run like your life depends on it. There will be torture, there will be death, and there will be rape. So leave if this is not your thing because I'm only posting this warning once.

Author's Note: This story was previously named Un-fucking-titled, so if you believe that you have read this before it's because you have. The older version was more of a rough draft and I will slowly be posting the revised chapters here. There will be grammatical errors because I can not find myself a beta and I apologize. This chapter is only an introduction and has very little to do with the actual story. Unlike Un-fucking-titled, I give you a dorky poem to scare you off. I'm not a poet and I actually detest poetry, but bear with me. If you don't want to read it, you can skip to the next chapter.

When the Snow Melts  
By Opal Rain Dragon

When the snow melts  
And winter's chill departs  
Spring comes  
To reclaim the land  
Bringing with it  
New life and joy  
Causing hearts to soar  
And love to blossom  
In the most unlikely of places

Endnote: So there's my crappy-ass poem and on with the fic. Also, I'd like to make the setting of this story known. It begins on the first day of school after OotP. Enjoy and review because I love reviews and am known for delaying the posting of a chapter if I feel that I have not gotten sufficient reviews.


	2. Anger and Mood Swings

Title: When the Snow Melts

Disclaimer: Not mine so just try and sue me. I dare ya.

Rating: Good question. "Muses, what's my rating?...A perfect ten... What the hell? What's that suppose to mean?" To be safe, I'll just go with R. After all, I cuss a lot and have an incredible dirty mind; there's no way I could possibly attract nice, sweet, innocent muses. ::snickers to herself::

Author's Note: This is the first chapter, so read and review.

**Revised 8-15-04 **

Anger and Mood Swings

(The Great Hall)

"SLYTHERIN!" the sorting hat announced from atop the head of a small, dirty-blond haired kid, with muddy brown eyes. His eyes widened in shock as he glanced towards the Slytherin table.

The members of said table applauded fiercely, feeling pride in acquiring a new member, all of them were happy, except for one.

Draco glanced at the boy in disinterest. _Great_, he thought. _Another annoying little rodent is allowed into the house of Slytherin. Big whoopdee-fucking-do_. He let out an annoyed growl and waited impatiently for his food to appear. _Why the hell couldn't they eat during the sorting_? He growled again attracting attention from some of his housemates.

"Draco," Pansy teased. "Knock it off; you're beginning to sound like my dog."

He let out another annoyed growl just to spite her. "Yeah well, at least I don't look like your dog," he snarled looking pointedly at Crabbe and Goyle. They didn't even notice the insult, which took most of the fun out of it.

"What's put you in such a bad mood?" she asked with a hint of amusement.

His eyes flitted towards a certain emerald-eyed boy who was busy laughing with his friends, enjoying all the bonuses of being thought of as special.

"Nothing," the blond growled.

She rolled her eyes, having heard what had happened on the train earlier that day. It wouldn't surprise her if most of the school had heard as well. If they hadn't it was only a matter of time.

(The Train, earlier that day)

"I'm bored," Crabbe whined, adding another chocolate frog wrapper to the pile that had been made by the three of them.

Draco stared at him in shock. The boy was so easily entertained by the stupidest things that boredom must be an entirely new experience for him. It really said something about the level of boredom they were experiencing. They needed entertainment and fast.

"I know," Draco announced after some thought. "Let's go see what Potter and his fan club are up to."

Crabbe and Goyle shared a pained look. In response, Draco's brow crinkled in confusion.

_What was wrong with bullying Potter? It was how they normally kept themselves entertained._

"Look Draco," Goyle explained. "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but me and Crabbe talked over the summer and both of us have decided that we wish to stay out of your petty jealous rivalry with Potter. We're both sick and tired of being cursed by Potter and his friends."

Draco's mouth hung open in shock. _Had he just seen a moment of intelligence from Goyle? _The thought was too much to handle. His automatic defense was to become irritated.

"Fine," he growled, leaving the compartment in an angry huff. "I'll just go by myself."

The train was crowded as usual and he shoved through fellow students making his way to Harry Potter and Companies usual compartment. He paused momentarily, glaring at the door, wondering if it was safe to start something with them on his own. Even with Crabbe and Goyle's help they were always bested by the trio, but Draco felt as if he had something to prove.

The door was thin enough that he was picking up parts of the conversation that was going on inside.

"So Harry, how was your summer?" Neville asked. The chubby boy was always eager to start up a conversation with the few friends that he had. He wanted to appear friendly and inviting in hopes that they wouldn't get bored with him and push him aside for more entertaining company.

"Fine," the raven-haired boy mumbled back.

The questions continued, but Draco didn't have the patience to sit around and hear about Perfect Little Potter's summer vacation. As a matter of fact, he could care less about any of their summer vacations. Without a second thought, he slid the compartment door open with a smirk.

"Hey Potter," he drawled, struggling not to notice the exasperated sigh that he got in response. "Wait until you see my new broom. You don't stand a chance against me this year."

Harry rolled his eyes, his face transformed into a look of superiority. "You've been saying that for how many years? And you still haven't even come close to beating me. Just face it Draco, I'm better than you."

Ron laughed, quick to join the conversation when there was a chance of humiliating the Slytherin. "You know he's right, don't you? I mean, even I could beat you at Quidditch and I kind of suck at it."

The smug looks on both of their faces pissed Draco off to no end. He wasn't making idle threats; he'd been practicing hard all summer and his father had even gotten him private lessons and a new broom. He did not intend to loose this year, so he lashed out angrily.

"Stupid weasel," Draco shouted, punching Ron square in the face. Ron stumbled back in surprise, clapping his hands to his nose. He had not been expecting such a reaction.

Three curses went flying past Ron, hitting Draco in the chest simultaneously. He fell backwards with a look of astonishment. With some effort, Harry rolled Draco out of their compartment. As the door was closing, Draco caught a glimpse of Hermione taking Ron's face gently in her hands and checking him for injuries.

Draco was now alone in the aisle, unable to move, his skin maroon with gold stripes, and his body extremely bloated. They had obviously planned out exactly which curses they had intended to use ahead of time. The embarrassment was beyond being tolerable.

"Shit," he heard Ron whine through the door. "I think I'm bleeding. Hermione, am I bleeding? It feels like I should be bleeding."

"No Ron," Hermione cooed. "You are not bleeding."

Now Draco was really pissed. Not only had he failed to embarrass Perfect Little Potter and his groupies, but he had also failed to give weasel-boy a bloody nose. At least if he had done some real damage then being so terribly cursed that he no longer looked human would have been slightly less humiliating. His father was right, he was a failure. _Stupid me; can't even punch right_.

(The present)

Draco growled at the memory, he had not gotten over the humiliation, especially since his housemates were as of yet still unable to remove the skin coloring.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted in glee, assigning another boy to the appropriate house.

He stared up at a small blond haired kid with overly large glasses, trying to fix the boy's face in his mind. He had to keep track of all the new Gryffindors so that he could be sure to give them detention if the need arised. This kid was as tiny as all the others had been.

"Is it just me," he asked. "...or are the first years getting shrimpier as the years progress?"

Pansy shrugged and the idiotic duo just stared at the first years stupidly. No one had an answer.

"We weren't that small, were we?"

Another shrug. Another lack of response. Draco continued.

"It's no fun beating the crap out of them when they're so puny. It feels like I'm squashing ants," he whined, trying to get some sort of response.

A few people at the table snickered, all except the first years that had just sat down. They were staring at Draco apprehensively, not really knowing that they were excluded from said beatings due to the fact that they were Slytherins. Draco was too pleased by their fear to enlighten them. People take orders better when they're scared half to death anyway.

Draco redirected his attention and began glaring at Potter once again.

(Gryffindor table)

"Ron," Harry whispered. "He's still glaring at me."

Ron looked in Draco's direction. Sure enough, the blond was giving Harry the death glare. Ron hadn't noticed it before, but he smiled evilly.

"Maybe he likes you or something," Ron teased.

Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust and Ron had a sudden mental picture when he thought about what he had just said. He shuddered at the thought. Thankfully something like that would never happen.

"Just ignore him," Hermione advised, after their jokes were done. Ron nodded in agreement still suffering from the horrid mental picture of Draco prancing around behind Harry, announcing his undying love.

"But it's getting on my nerves," Harry complained. Over the years, he had gotten somewhat used to drawing people's attention, he was the-boy-that-lived after all, but every now and then he became acutely aware of it, especially when it could turn out bad for him.

They had pissed Draco off monumentally and it was only a matter of time before the boy retaliated. That fact alone made him nervous and that was why the blonde's glare was becoming a concern.

"Stupid ferret," Ron grumbled, trying to lighten the mood. "I know, let's all smile and wave at him."

Harry brightened at the thought and Hermione snickered.

"All right," he said grinning crazily.

The three looked directly at Draco with big fake smiles plastered on their face. When they started waving, Draco's face flushed with embarrassment and he quickly looked away.

The sorting continued and Ron was happily chattering away about Quidditch, but Harry was too busy thinking about other things to notice. He couldn't seem to shake the idea of Malfoy having the audacity to start something without his guards. Malfoy was never alone; it just didn't seem to make sense. The only explanation that he could come up with was that the three had gotten into an argument or something.

He glanced at Malfroy and noticed that he moved his glare to a new target – Crabbe and Goyle.

_I guess they did get in a fight_, _but what could it have been about?_

The question plagued him and he was caught by surprise when Dumbledore's speech came to an end; he hadn't even noticed that the speech had begun.

Food appeared on the table and there was a flurry of motion as the younger students grabbed what they wished to eat. The older students were more patient in their food-getting endeavors, except for Ron who was hurriedly piling both his and Harry's plate with food as though he expected the food to magically disappear as fast as it had appeared.

"Come on, eat up," Ron coaxed in an overly cheerful voice.

Harry smiled, picked up his fork, shoveled some mashed potatoes into his mouth and glared at Ron. He had grown tired of the boy's molly-coddling, even though he knew that the red-head was just worried about him.

Ron smiled back and started in on his own food, trying to talk to Hermione at the same time. The girls was struggling not to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

Harry gave up trying to listen as the noise in the Great Hall grew progressively louder.

He glanced at the Slytherin table only to find that Malfroy had begun to glare at him again.

He tried not to think about it and placed more food in his mouth so that Ron wouldn't get on his case again.

The First-day Feast went as it had always gone, with lots of laughter, food, and friendship. Harry didn't feel like he was part of that world anymore; he was too jaded to believe everything would work out fine as long as you had friends and got your homework done.

"Uh," Ron groaned, pulling Harry out of his melancholic thoughts, and patting his stomach appreciatively. "I'm stuffed."

Harry put his fork down, unable to eat another bite. "Me too."

Hermione eyed his plate skeptically about to comment on the lack of food actually consumed by the moody Gryffindor, but upon seeing the pained look he gave her, she kept her mouth shut.

The first years were valiantly fighting off fatigue, but it was clear to Ron and Hermione that it was time for bed for them.

"We'll meet you back in the dorm," Hermione announced, latching on to Ron so that she could drag him away before he thought to pester Harry about eating more. "We have prefect's duties and all to attend to. Come on Ron."

Ron gave Harry an apologetic look as they turned to leave, remembering how upset the boy had been when Ron and Hermione had been made prefects and not him.

"It's fine. I don't need an escort," he assured.

Ron visibly relaxed upon hearing this and went off to round up the first years with the help of his girlfriend, and lead them to their rooms.

He watched the two of them for a moment, smiling. He was glad they had each other, even though it made him slightly jealous. With a sigh, he headed to the dorms, hoping to arrive before anyone else, so that he could go to bed without talking to anyone.

End Note: It was really funny writing this chapter because with the very first word I had to pause and think, "Now how the hell do I spell 'Slytherin'?" I realized that I had never spelled 'Slytherin' before and wasn't quite sure where all the letters were suppose to go. It made me feel really stupid, but then I got to the word 'Quidditch,' that really made me pause. And, as if the muses wished to torture me, I had to figure out how the hell I was supposed to spell 'Hermione.' Yeah, I'm going to bed. I'm sorry if I tend to use the f-word too much; it's a major part of my vocabulary. I hope you enjoyed it anyway.

Review Responses:

**Yana5 **Thanks for reminding me that I needed to update; I had forgotten too.


	3. An Unexpected Apology

Title: When the Snow Melts

Disclaimer: Fuck off! I'm already upset enough about not owning them, but why do I constantly have to admit that. It hurts, man. It hurts right here. ::holds hand over heart:: I don't need that kind of shit. ::runs off crying::

Rating: More than likely R.

Author's Note: I'm sorry this is so short, I certain challenge that I'm writing distracted me. I've made up a character. His name if Faren and he is Draco's younger brother. Also, I couldn't get anyone to edit, so if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry.

**Revised 8-16-04**

An Unexpected Apology

Draco headed for his first class of the day with a child-like glee that was almost unbefitting for a Malfroy. Potions always managed to cheer him up and after the night he had, he needed all the happiness that was available for the taking. Not only had he lost his two minions, he had been cursed by Potty and his fan club, and then had his luggage mysteriously lost, forcing him to sleep in his school clothes. Thankfully Blaise had been willing to share his hair-care products and his father had taught him a really cool spell that brushed his teeth for him. If it weren't for that, he doubted he would have even come to class.  
  
The dungeon was just as he remembered it-cold and damp and slightly slimy (probably where Snape gets his hair goo from). Professor Snape stood at the front of the class, arms crossed, with a smug look on his face. He spared a quick smile for Draco and then went back to giving the Gryffindors superior looks. He did not put up with their childish antics as the other teachers did.  
  
Potter entered just in time, panting. He shuffled towards his usual seat, attempting to draw as little attention to himself as possible, he failed miserably. It was hard not to notice him; he made so much noise for someone so small.  
  
"By the way Potter," Snape snarled upon seeing him. "Dumbledore has requested that you continue with remedial potions until you get it right."

The green-eyed boy tensed angrily.

Draco and the rest of the Slytherins snickered. It was common knowledge that Potter was so terrible at potions that he needed to take remedial potions, but it was so much nicer hearing Snape announce it to the whole class. Everyone believed that Snape had allowed Potter into Advanced Potions just so that he could antagonize the boy for another two years.  
  
Potter glared daggers at the man. Snape just sneered back before starting his lesson. The level of hatred between them had risen dramatically, and no one was sure of the reason. The tension in the air at that moment was almost tangible. Everyone present was waiting with batted breath for the explosion. It was only a matter of time, but it did not appear to be happening during this lesson. Potter calmed himself with visible force, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly. Draco was rather impressed by his amount of control.

The rest of the class was uneventful; they didn't do anything new or learn anything new. Instead, Professor Snape went over everything of import that they had learned during their time in his class. He seemed to believe that summer had wiped all memory from their brain and with the answers the teacher was getting it appeared to be true. It left Draco feeling rather disappointed.  
  
He hoped lunch would cheer him up after the long and boring three hour review, but he didn't get a chance to find out, Pansy seemed intent upon making conversation. Sometimes he really hated the girl, especially since he had long ago realized that all of her flattery was insincere.  
  
"Hey Draco, isn't your little brother coming here next year?" Pansy asked, as they walked to the Great Hall for lunch.  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together. "Yes," he answered coldly.  
  
She seemed unfazed by his icy exterior. "What is his name again?"  
  
"Faren," he growled, angry at even the thought of his kid-brother.  
  
She brightened. "Oh, he's such a cute kid. I saw him once at a party and knew immediately he was a Malfoy even though you had never mentioned him before. He'll grow up to be real handsome; probably even cuter than you Draco," she chattered on, not noticing the blonde's sudden darkening of demeanor.  
  
He glared at her and stormed off towards the dorms, having lost his appetite at the mention of his younger brother.

His mother was always cooing over how wonderful the little brat was, totally ignoring him while she fawned obsessively. Everyone thought so highly of the pampered little shit, most of the time not even noticing the older Malfoy's existence. Next year, his brother would be here as well and immediately everyone would love him too, leaving Malfoy all alone and uncared for. The thought had plagued his nightmares.

His life just seemed to be getting worse and worse and worse, and the only thing he had to look forward to was Quidditch tryouts on Friday. It was common knowledge that he had already made the team, but he couldn't wait to tell Montague the good news. His father had bought the team custom built brooms that went faster than every broom on the market. It would be the second present his father had given the team. He also couldn't wait to show them how much he had improved over the summer, having taken private lessons at his father's urging. It was impossible for the Slytherin team to loose now. He would never forgive himself if it did.  
  
(Elsewhere)

Harry was running to class as fast as he could, shoving his transfiguration book into his bag as he went, and slinging it over his shoulder. He couldn't believe he had left it, still packed, in his school trunk. Professor McGonagall would never let him hear the end of it if he arrived late to class on the first day of school. Punctuality was a virtue in the woman's eyes, especially when it came to children in her house.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle were standing directly in front of him, arms crossed, blocking his path. He groaned inwardly and shot them a defiant look, not having time for the usual house rivalry.  
  
"Hurry up and hit me, so I can get on my way, " he shot at them. Even if he was willing to fight he was no match for the two giant-like teens and if he came to class with a black-eye he would at least be out of trouble for being late.

The two boys shifted uncomfortably and finally Goyle opened his mouth at last. "Listen, we just want to say that we're sorry for all the trouble we've caused you over the years."  
  
The Gryffindor was taken aback and confused. _Did he just say what I think he said?_ He didn't know how to respond or if this was some new kind of trick. It just didn't make sense and he wondered vaguely if he had fallen in his attempt to run down the stairs while shoving his book into his bag, and banged his head, knocking himself into a coma, in which his dreams consisted of impossible occurrences and enemies being nice. If this was a dream, he wanted out; he was scared.  
  
Goyle smirked at the raven-haired boy's reaction before continuing. "So, let's make a deal. We stay out of your business and you stay out of ours. No more fighting, okay?" He held out his hand to shake on it. Crabbe stood back watching the exchange, silently allowing Goyle to speak for him.  
  
Harry stared down at the hand warily, not sure if he should shake the mammoth's hand and afraid of what kind of curse might befall him if he did. He decided not to risk it. He very openly pulled his hand behind his back and nodded to show that he agreed with them, but that they would have to earn his trust.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle nodded back, accepting whatever they could get.

When Harry made a move to get past them, they let him go – no trouble, no tripping, and no curses being thrown at his open back.  
  
"What the bloody hell was that all about?" he grumbled to himself.  
  
"Can you tell your friends that we're sorry?" Goyle yelled after him.  
  
"Sure," Harry called back, not turning around, still wondering if this was all a dream._  
_  
Suddenly, he remembered Transfiguration class and his impending doom and took off running, thoughts of torture and castration at the hands of the testy woman plaguing his mind. Maybe he still had time to severely injury himself before he reached her class.  
  
The door was closed and he could hear Professor McGonagall's voice; class had already started. He was doomed. He slowly opened the door, panting for breath and met his Head of House's angry glare.  
  
"Sorry," he mumbled, fearfully. "I couldn't find my book."  
  
She eyed him coldly, no pity evident. "I will not tolerate lateness, especially from a member of my house. Five points from Gryffindor and the next time Mr. Potter, I will take away one point for every second you are late."  
  
The class did the math in their head and gasped. It didn't seem like much, but it quickly added up. One minute of lateness would be sixty seconds – sixty points.  
  
Harry gulped. "Yes, Professor McGonagall."  
  
He quickly took his seat next to Ron and tried to pull out his supplies as quietly as he possibly could. He was afraid to incite her anger once again.  
  
Once he was situated his thoughts returned to his encounter with Crabbe and Goyle. It still didn't make any sense, unless they had been planning to make him late on purpose. He ripped off a piece of parchment and started writing.

_Ron, I think Malfroy and the Troll Patrol had  
a fight or something. Crabbe and Goyle just  
apologized for all the trouble they caused us  
and they asked me to pass on the message.  
_  
Ron read the note and responded.  
  
_It has to be part of some kind of trap. We'll  
ask Hermione when class is over.  
_  
Harry nodded in agreement and they waited for class to end. It was review anyway. It wasn't like they needed to listen or anything.  
  
(Later that day)  
  
Hermione was pushing the food around her plate, thinking about what Harry and Ron had said earlier that day. She hated unsolved mysteries such as this because they distracted her from more productive thoughts.  
  
She was staring intently at the Slytherin table and, as Harry had told her, it did appear as if Malfroy and his bodyguards were no longer on speaking terms. Malfroy was completely ignoring the two and seemed to be entirely absorbed in his conversation with Pansy.  
  
Suddenly, an idea hit her upside her head.  
  
"Ron," she announced with knowledge induced glee. "I think I know what's going on."  
  
Both Ron and Harry looked at her expectantly.  
  
"This is of course only a theory," she explained. "...but maybe, just maybe I think I know what might have happened between them." She paused to catch her breath.

"Crabbe and Goyle were only mean to us because Malfroy told them to be, right?" They nodded in agreement because that was the way it always seemed.

"They would probably not have even thought to mess with us in the first place without Malfroy's prompting. Now let's say Malfroy was interested in a girl and started ignoring the two. They would be left without commands and be as they normally would be, correct? So, I think that Malfroy has fallen in love with Pansy, leaving Crabbe and Goyle on their own because he is too busy for them."  
  
Harry and Ron both glanced over to the Slytherin table, testing their newly acquired knowledge.  
  
"It makes sense," Ron admitted.  
  
"Yeah, it does," Harry agreed.  
  
They both continued to stare at the group in wonder.  
  
"But that's good news because we won't be terrorized by them anymore," Hermione stated hopefully. "Now we can concentrate on more important things." She left the 'more important things' unsaid, knowing that the two were bright enough to get the hint.  
  
They shrugged and went back to their food. Secretly, they were both a little disappointed. Even though the fighting was a little annoying, it was still kind of fun. The rush of adrenalin was exciting.

Endnote: The next one will be up soon, so read and review and I'll get the next chapter revised even faster.


	4. Revenge is Sweet but Evil is Sweeter

Title: When the Snow Melts

Disclaimer: I'm still working on capturing them, but no, currently they are not mine. ::sighs::

Rating: R

Author's Note: Again it is unedited and the next chapter of Trees Are Delicious will probably be unedited too. It's also another short update because of the above distraction.

**Revised 8-16-04**

Revenge is Sweet But Evil is Sweeter

(Quidditch practice, after tryouts)  
  
The Gryffindors were out on the field practicing when the Slytherin team arrived. Once they noticed, they came to a stop on their brooms and looked down warily, hovering a few feet above the ground.  
  
"Do you mind," one of the girls on the Gryffindor team snarled," We're trying to practice here and we don't need an audience."  
  
"Well," Draco drawled, barely containing his glee. "It's our turn to practice, so get off the field."  
  
"No it's not," she argued. "Gryffindor gets the field on Tuesdays and Fridays"  
  
"And?" he asked cockily.  
  
"And that means we get to practice today," she shot back defiantly, slightly unnerved by the blonde's confidence.  
  
"Not according to this wonderful little note from Professor Snape," Draco challenged, pulling out a piece of parchment and waving it in front of their faces in amusement.  
  
The Gryffindors shifted nervously on their brooms, most remembering a similar occurrence a few years back. Draco smirked at them, pleased by their reaction.  
  
"My father just bought the team new brooms and we need the extra practice so that we can get used to them," he explained haughtily.  
  
The Slytherin team pulled out their new brooms and held them up to allow the Gryffindor's a better view. The team paled considerably, but most were too shocked to respond.  
  
"You see, we have to get used to the speed of our new brooms or we could have a fatal accident," the blond called in a sing-song voice.  
  
The Gryffindor team huffed in outrage.

"Good, fall off your brooms," Ginny snarled.  
  
"This isn't fair," Ron cried in indignation. "We have new people we need to train."  
  
"Don't worry," Draco retorted, his smile turning wicked. "All the practice in the world won't help you this season."  
  
"And what's that suppose to mean?" Andrew challenged, bristling slightly in his anger.  
  
"What I mean is," the Slytherin continued. "...that this season you won't win no matter how hard you try, especially if you intend to keep Weasley on your team. We all know that the last game he played was a fluke."  
  
Ron turned red, shaking with suppressed anger.

Sensing that the boy was about to snap, Draco quickly added, "Hurry up and get off the field, or do I need to get Professor Snape to force you off."

Professor Snape appeared at the edge of the pitch, glaring them down in a threatening manner. With his appearance the students realized that there was nothing they could do and one by one the Gryffindor team landed, each shooting dirty looks at the Slytherins as they passed.

Harry was the last to land. He walked past with his head held high, not even sparing a glance at the Slytherins. Malfroy couldn't resist the urge. As Harry passed in front of him, he moved his foot out in Harry's path. The green-eyed boy was completely oblivious. His foot caught Draco's, as he walked passed, causing him to loose his balance and fall. The Slytherins snickered at Harry's sprawled out form on the ground.  
  
"Maybe you should learn how to walk," Malfroy taunted.  
  
Slowly, Harry got to his feet, dusting himself off. He meant to walk away and get back at Malfroy later, but the sound of Malfroy snickering caused him to snap. He spun around and punched the boy right in the face.  
  
"Potter," Snapped thundered, crossing the field like a rabid bat, his cloak billowing out behind him. "That was uncalled for. You will be serving detention with me on Monday."  
  
"But sir, he tripped me," the raven-haired boy cried in indignation, unwilling to admit that he had overreacted.  
  
"Don't try to weasel your way out of this one by making up stories. I was standing right there and all that I saw was you tripping over your own robes. If you care to argue with me any further I'll give you another day of detention," the Potions Master growled.  
  
Harry glared at the man before stalking off, visibly shaking with uncontrollable anger. He stormed into the locker room and punched the nearest wall, attracting the team's attention.  
  
"I hate him," he screamed and punched the wall again, unconcerned by the fact that he had an audience. "I bloody hate him."  
  
The team nodded in agreement, unfazed by his anger. Ron placed his hand sympathetically on his best friends shoulder.

"We all do," the red-head soothed. "But don't worry; we'll get him back by winning all our matches."

(The Slytherin Common Room)  
  
Draco was in the center of a group of fawning girls, reveling in the attention he was getting. Girls just naturally seemed to adore him and they were always eager to listen to his stories.  
  
"The Gryffindors weren't leaving, so I had to scare them off, but it worked. They all ran off the field like a bunch of whipped mutts. It was great." The group around him was hanging on his every word and so he continued.  
  
"And as Potter was walking off the field he tripped over his own robes and fell flat on his face." The girls squealed in delight. "We of course found this hilarious so we started laughing and he got all pissed off and punched me in the nose," Draco whined.  
  
"Aww, poor Draco," Pansy cooed, curling closer to the blond haired boy.  
  
"What did you do?" a first year questioned eagerly.  
  
"Well, I was going to beat the bloody crap out of him, but Snape showed up and gave him detention instead. He would have been so dead otherwise. Then, Snape made me go see Madame Pomfrey. She said that if Potter had punched me any harder he would have broken my nose. It was bleeding like crazy."  
  
The girls gasped in surprise at his announcement before becoming angry.  
  
"He only got detention," one of them cried in indignation.  
  
"Yeah, he should have been expelled," another girl asserted.  
  
"I know," Draco snarled angrily. "...but Dumbledore wouldn't do that. In his mind Potter is a perfect little angel."  
  
"He's a menace though," Pansy voiced. "Pretty soon, he'll be hexing first years in the hall for no reason."  
  
The girls all nodded.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Draco drawled. "I won't let him get away with it. Just because most of the teachers turn a blind eye to his behavior doesn't mean I have to."  
  
The girls began fawning on him as he smiled confidently. His day was definitely looking up.  
  
"You're so brave," they cooed in adoration.  
  
Inside Pansy was disgusted by the display, but being friends with Draco did have its perks and all she had to do was suck up a little.

Endnote: Feed the muses, please review, because if you feed them they might allow me to sleep. ::twitches::


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